


Bodyguard (The Long Lost Pal Remix)

by theladyscribe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Card Games, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyscribe/pseuds/theladyscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know," Tony says around a mouthful of food, "all my other bodyguards have been a lot more accommodating than you. They take care of me, fix me dinner, wipe my brow when I sweat… Keeps me out of trouble."</p><p>Natasha fishes a bookmark out of god-knows-where and places it in her book. She twists around to look at Tony, her face a blank mask. "You want me to entertain you?" she asks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bodyguard (The Long Lost Pal Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [igrockspock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrockspock/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Bodyguard](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3790933) by [igrockspock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrockspock/pseuds/igrockspock). 



Tony wakes up on the couch with a crick in his neck and a still-stuffy nose. He blinks his eyes open only to find Natasha curled in the chair across from him, reading a Georgette Heyer novel.

"Romance novels will rot your brain," he says by way of hello.

"Explains a lot," Natasha says without looking up. "I got it from _your_ bookshelf."

"You went into my boudoir?" Tony gasps. "How scandalous!"

Natasha rolls her eyes as expected and marks her place with a finger. "Would you like some more Nyquil, Tony? Or should I knock you out the old-fashioned way?"

Tony sits up and stretches, trying to work the kink out of his neck. "Neither, thank you. I do believe I'm in need of a snack, though."

Natasha shrugs and reopens her book. "It's your place; help yourself."

"You make such a good nursemaid," Tony grumps half-heartedly as he stands and heads for the bar. He's pretty sure they still have some cheese in the minifridge, if Bruce and Clint haven't gotten into them. "I don't know why we don't keep you on retainer."

"Hmm," Natasha says, turning a page.

Tony opens the minifridge to find not only the Gouda he remembered, but also half a wedge of Camembert and a bowl of grapes. He pulls all three out and arranges them on the counter. He opens one of the cabinets and hesitates briefly before grabbing two plates instead of just one.

"Why _are_ you still here anyway?" Tony asks, curious despite himself, as he slices up the cheese and arranges it on the plates. "It's not like I'm on my deathbed. You're more of a danger to my longterm health than this cold is."

Natasha sighs and puts her finger in her book again. "I promised Pepper I would. Clint's guarding her at the banquet, so I'm guarding you at the tower. It's an even trade, though I think Clint got the better end of the deal."

"We're in agreement there," Tony says. "You want a drink?"

"No."

Tony returns to the arrangement of couches and sets both plates down on the coffee table. "You'll notice I didn't even sneeze on your food," he says.

Natasha is reading her book again; she ignores him entirely.

Tony sighs dramatically and picks up a cracker with cheese. "I see how it is. No thanks for anything."

Natasha rolls her eyes again but otherwise continues to ignore him. Tony isn't sure if she's actually reading — her eyes don't seem to move at all — but he admires her ability to appear utterly ensconced in the book while also obviously aware of everything going on around her. He's never managed that kind of dual focus, always too zoned into one thing to notice what else might be happening. It has its advantages — his technology empire can attest to that — but it also has its disadvantages — as almost anyone who has met him has told the tabloid newshounds.

"You know," Tony says around a mouthful of food, "all my other bodyguards have been a lot more accommodating than you. They take care of me, fix me dinner, wipe my brow when I sweat… Keeps me out of trouble."

Natasha fishes a bookmark out of god-knows-where and places it in her book. She twists around to look at Tony, her face a blank mask. "You want me to entertain you?" she asks.

Tony swallows his cracker and grins. "Happy'll at least play cards with me," he says.

"Fine. Have you ever played _Durak_?"

"Can't say that I have. Is it like poker? You'll fleece me, I'm sure."

Natasha smiles in a way that says yes, she will. "It's not really a betting game. Get a deck of cards. I'll teach you."

Tony doesn't even have to get up. He slides open the end table drawer and pulls out an unopened Bicycle deck that he tosses to her. "These do?"

Natasha catches the cards and slides out of her chair onto the floor. She slips open the plastic casing and pulls the cards out of the cardboard box. Tony watches as she flips through them, discarding the jokers and pulling out what looks like half the deck.

"It uses a deck of 36," she says, answering the question he hasn't asked yet. "We'll only need the cards from six up."

When Natasha has filtered out all the unneeded cards, she shuffles the deck quickly and starts dealing. "We start off with six apiece; the goal is to use all your cards before the other person. We play in bouts. Have you ever played _War_?" She looks up at Tony, who nods. "It's similar, but with better rules."

"Is it really better, or is it just better because it's Russian?" Tony quips.

"It's better," Natasha assures him. "Now, pay attention. It seems complicated, but it isn't."

Natasha walks him through the first two bouts with an open hand so he can learn the strategy. She's right; it seems more complicated than it actually is, a game that rewards people capable of card-counting and knowing their opponent.

"Is this one of your spy games?" Tony asks as they start their first closed-hand game. "Did you learn this in spy school?"

Natasha scoffs and snatches a grape off her plate. "This is the most popular card game in Russia. Everyone plays it, from Putin himself down to little grandmas in their villages. It's only a spy game if you're _pretending_ to be Russian." She places a nine of hearts on the table. "Time to defend yourself, Mr. Stark."

Tony glances at the trump; it's the queen of spades. He plays his jack of hearts. "Go fish," he says.

"Wrong game," Natasha mutters, but she's smiling a little as she says it. Her good humor doesn't stop her from utterly trouncing Tony in the first two bouts, though.

He manages to eke out a win in the third bout, finding the rhythm of it once he figures out how to handle the balance between defending and attacking. Once they get going, it's hard to stop, Tony's competitiveness and Natasha's sheer skill matching in a way where they're more often at odds. It's nice.

They play several hands, the time passing quickly, before taking a break to stretch and get more snacks. Tony pours them both drinks from the bar — whiskey sour for him, vodka soda for her — and they talk during their next round.

"Really," Tony says as he goes on the attack, "where did you learn this?" He's genuinely curious, and they've relaxed into the game enough that he thinks he might get a real answer.

Natasha takes a sip of her drink and leans back a little, considering her cards. "I don't remember," she says, dropping a ten of clubs on Tony's seven. "We played it at school, so probably there, but I also remember playing it with my parents at New Year's. I meant it when I said everyone in Russia knows _Durak_."

"Fascinating." Tony plays his queen, and smirks when Natasha scowls. "I'll take that as admission that you can't top my queen?"

Natasha huffs and picks up the pile of cards. She's just played a six of hearts when the door opens and Clint and Pepper walk in.

"Tony? You're still awake?" Pepper comes to stand beside the couch, her hip even with Tony's shoulder. She runs a hand over his face. "Feeling better?"

"I slept for a little while," he says. He motions toward the coffee table. "How was the party? Natasha and I have been playing _Durak_."

"It was fine. You haven't lost your entire fortune to her yet?"

Tony smiles up at Pepper and winks at Natasha. "It's not a betting game. Have a seat; we'll teach you."

**Author's Note:**

>  _Durak_ is a Russian card game, supposedly the most popular card game in Russia. I may or may not have taught myself to play in order to write this fic.


End file.
